and caught Bristol's sleeve. "Ba gar!" he declared,
with as much impatience as anybody had ever heard in the tone of Etienne
Provancher, "even the poor habitant boy in the Tadousac country know
better how to love the nice girl as what you do, M'sieu' Farr."

"My name is not Farr; it is--"

"I don't care what your name be," snapped the old man. "Tell me that
some odder time. It's what _you_ be--that's what I care! And you don't
be good to nice girl."

"I don't understand."

"You go back there and rap on Modder Maillet's front door and then you
understand! I'm only poor mans, m'sieu', but I shall talk to you like I
spoke to the mans in the _hotel de ville_--and I shall not be scare when
I am right."

"Look here, Etienne! What do you mean?"

"_La belle_ ma'm'selle--ba gar! you have to be hit with brick bang--dat
fine, pretty lady--she what tell me the good word to say to you about
the bad folks--you must know she leeve now in the good woman's house."

Now it was Bristol's turn to grasp Etienne's arm. He shook the old man.

"Miss Kilgour--here? Speak up! Don't be so slow!"

"I have speak up. Odderwise you go off and be a big fool some more,"
retorted the rack-tender, boldly. "She's in there. She come here to live
because somet'ing has made her very poor--and very sad. And her modder
she cry all the time. And _la belle_ ma'm'selle she come to the big tree
and she ask me many things--"

While the old man chattered Bristol was yanking impatiently at the catch
of the gate. He could not find the latch in the dark and so he kicked
off a few more pickets from Mother Maillet's much-abused fence. He
crawled through and bumped against old Etienne, thrusting him from the
path, checking the flow of information.

The young man leaped up the steps, to the plain dismay of the little
boy, and beat upon the door.

"It is I, Kate!" he called. "I have come back."

When she opened the door--half timorous, half eager, wholly beside
herself--he took her in his arms and kissed her, paying no heed to the
goggling eyes of childhood or the averted gaze of old age.

"But you left no word for me. Did you believe me when I said I would not
come back?"

"I knew you would come back," she sobbed. "So I came here. I knew you
would find me here."

Etienne drew near apologetically and picked up the little boy.

"Oh, my own girl, I have so much to tell you!" the lover murmured. "I
know you will listen."

"We have so much to tell each ot